


and goin' and keep it flowin'

by forochel



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Creampie, Fingerfucking, Fucking, Idfic, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink, pussy slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: this is just filthy messy fucking ft. bunny hybrid intersex omega wonpil being horny as fuck.that's it. that's the fic.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	and goin' and keep it flowin'

**Author's Note:**

> **DISCLAIMER: this is a work of FICTION based on FICTIONAL REPRESENTATIONS of real people.** also jesus fuck if you are or know anyone tagged above please go away.  
> __  
> UPDATE: 2020/12/12: I ... forgot to style this before posting god. properly styled now.
> 
> this is pure idfic ([definition](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Idfic)), so reader beware the tags. i've been working on this on/off since march, lit erotica is difficult, im setting myself free.
> 
> title from lizzo's lingerie. (eta) the alternative joke (or not?) title was putita conejo golosa, which honestly is probably more representative. yes, fuck gendered grammar becase *points at intersex omega pilie*

-

It came upon Wonpil suddenly, made him gasp and drop his pencil onto Younghyun's coffee table: the feeling of being very abruptly, formlessly horny. He was frustratingly aware of the empty ache between his thighs, the hot, involuntary flex and clench of his cunt, the throb of his cock. 

No amount of deep breathing or restless fidgeting made it abate; the rub made it _worse_ , as a matter of fact. Trying to hold still, he tried to remember the last time he'd had his heat. It wasn't time yet, he didn't think. Contrary to popular disbelief, bunny hybrids (nor their descendants) _didn't_ fuck like rabbits. 

But things _had_ been more stressful lately. Wonpil whimpered and felt his lop ears flatten further against the side of his head, thinking about what he usually did when he was ... stressed.

Wonpil looked to the door. Only Dowoonie was at home as well, last he knew; Sungjin had gone home to Busan to recuperate, Jae was out doing something, and Younghyun -- Younghyun wasn't _here_ , when Wonpil _needed_ him. The injustice. The _injustice_ , Wonpil thought to himself, or maybe panted out loud, as heat prickled all over him: up his arms and down his back, pooling in the base of his tail, the cradle of his hips. 

It was too much, especially in Younghyun's room, which smelt so strongly of his sweet warm colognes and natural rich, earthy musk. Wonpil could taste it on his tongue, thick and heady like expensive red wine. He whined and rolled his hips, his thighs having spread without him noticing so the swollen folds could press harder into the cushion he'd been kneeling on, that little edge of friction barely enough through his shorts.

His shorts -- oh, but -- but -- but he was already -- he could feel the hot wet slide of his slick out of him, the way his underwear was sticking to him, the way his shorts were starting to slip against the rough woven cushion cover. It wasn't so rough anymore. 

Wonpil impatiently shoved his shorts down over his tail and away, scrambling gracelessly, kicking them away somewhere when his underwear caught on his right ankle. The sound when he thumped back down on his cushion -- Wonpil still had enough wits about to blush at the filthy wet slap, even as the impact sent pleasure shooting through him. 

Distantly, Wonpil was aware that the cushion's owner wasn't going to be very pleased. _Oops_. Well, it was Younghyun's fault for not being home. He squeezed the cushion between his thighs, rode the rough seam of it, fucked his dripping cocklet into a fold in the fabric. It was sodden, a strange slippery roughness that was making the hot pleasure between his thighs burn brighter and brighter.

He dropped his head, neck bowed, manuscript paper crinkling under his fingers. He wondered what Younghyunie-hyung might do, to demonstrate his displeasure. He wanted to touch himself; he wanted to wait; he wanted -- 

"Pilie," Younghyun's voice cut like a sword through silk into the daze he'd fallen into. He hadn't even _heard_ him. "I can smell you from outside."

From where he'd, at some point, collapsed over the coffee table, Wonpil turned his forehead cradled on his crossed forearms. He could feel his lop-ears raise and twitch a little.

Wordlessly, he whined.

The door clicked shut behind him; the low hum of the scent neutraliser started up. 

Wonpil turned over. The table dug into his lower back as he spread his knees. 

"Fuck," muttered his boyfriend. "Look at you." 

Younghyun's eyes were dark and intent as he crossed over from the door and knelt next to Wonpil. But all he did was smile ruefully, nose wrinkling. "We both lost track, huh?"

Wonpil nodded, and reached out to grasp him by the elbow. Tried to pull Younghyun in where he wanted him. But he was pulled instead, tugged back up onto his knees and tipped into Younghyun slantwise, peeling off the abused cushion with a wet sound that had him hiding his face in Younghyun's neck, flushing hard.

"Well." Younghyun was silent for a while. Wonpil clung to his shoulders and giggled nervously. " _You're_ going to be the one cleaning that up."

"Okay," breathed Wonpil, and squirmed. "Now, _please_ , hyu -- _aaaaaah,_ nnngh!" 

Younghyun had slid his fingers into Wonpil right there and then without ceremony, three of them crooking calloused and thick into him. He smelt like sweat and baby powder and arousal; his skin was salty when Wonpil bit down against the tight pleasure winding up in his thighs and his cunt. 

His cocklet was pressed hard and wet between his mons and the stark tendon of Younghyun's wrist as he finger-fucked Wonpil, fingers roughly jerking into him. That was all it took; it had been so long since the opening ache had first taken Wonpil. Felt like it, anyway.

Wonpil moaned and bore down, rode the motion of them as he did the cresting wave of his orgasm. Younghyun's left hand -- the one not in him -- was tucking him close, massaging at the sensitive base of his slick-soaked tail. He was melting all over, outside and inside and drip drip dripping all over Younghyun's hands, down the insides and backs of his thighs, onto the lacquered floor. He felt so good, buzzing all over, the cool air like kisses against his skin. He felt like a naked nerve, electrified to the touch.

"You're so messy, sweetheart," Younghyun told him, running his fingers through the matted fur of his tail briefly. "Messy little bunny." 

Wonpil whimpered into the kiss that Younghyun gave him at last, a shiver wracking him as he licked weakly back.

But Younghyun's actions belied his words in the next moment -- he laid Wonpil out on the floor, slippery with his slick, and continued going with his fingers. 

"Ah, hyung!" Wonpil cried when Younghyun dragged his mouth down his taut neck; Younghyun's other hand was rucking his t-shirt up under his armpits, then smoothing down over the gentle swell of one pectoral. 

Breathing coming even faster in anticipation, Wonpil attempted to plea mercy — "Hyung, please, I can't—" but Younghyun was already fastening his hot, pink mouth and wicked teeth around a nipple. 

The world fell away; everything was sharp electric pleasure zipping straight down, as Younghyun sucked. He sucked and flicked his tongue and pinched with his rough fingertips until Wonpil was shaking and arching his back, heels digging into the floor. Rough, laboured, barely aspirated little _uh, uh, uh_ s were all he could manage. 

"Gonna get you so wet, baby." Younghyun's voice had gone husky and deep as he kissed his way across Wonpil's sternum to apply the same treatment to his other breast. "Wanna make you squirt." 

The back of Wonpil's head knocked against the wooden floor when Younghyun sunk another finger into him and crooked all of them. There was just — too much: Younghyun's mouth on him, his slippery fingers stroking around an abused nipple, his calloused fingers thick and stroking at where Wonpil was hot wet raw and still — still — 

Everything seized up all at once, pushing loud, breaking, whimpering moans out of his lungs as he writhed and shook and everything got wetter: his cock spurting onto his belly, his pussy gushing slick out over Younghyun's hand onto his thighs and ass as he clenched down on Younghyun's unyielding knuckles.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Younghyun was muttering when Wonpil's hearing returned, one hand petting at Wonpil's hair and lop ears; he was kneeling next to Wonpil now; his other hand was still mostly in Wonpil. 

Wonpil whimpered at the feeling of Younghyun's fingers in him, still stretching him open, solid and sturdy and perfect for the way his pussy was pulsing weakly. That second orgasm had come upon him like a tsunami, but it hadn't made the want retreat at all; waves of desire still beat at his shores. 

"Yeah?" Younghyun bent to ask against Wonpil's throat, breathing rough and voice full, greedy fingers curling further in Wonpil. "You want more, baby?"

"Want _you_ ," Wonpil replied petulantly. Because that _was_ what he wanted, so badly he could taste it. Younghyun to hold him open and fill him up, raw him until he felt sore.

"You have me," Younghyun said, instead bowing down to cradle Wonpil's face with sticky fingers and kiss him hard, fuck his mouth the way he'd started doing with his fingers again.

The third orgasm was wrung easily out of him; it swelled so easily out of the waves of pleasure still coursing through Wonpil. When Younghyun slid his fingers gingerly out, Wonpil's face was wet too, but with tears.

"Shhh, shhhhh." Younghyun was kissing the tears away and petting him — petting his hip with one hand and his twitching ears with the other. "You're okay, you're doing so well, my sweet bunny." 

Nuzzling up under his jaw, Wonpil let himself be soothed until he got his breath back. Younghyun was stretched out over him now, holding himself partly up on his elbow.

"Hyung," Wonpil whined, softer than he meant. "I meant I want your _cock_."

"Mmmm." Younghyun nuzzled against his cheek and slotted their mouths together. Wonpil was dizzy again when they broke apart, from the lack of air and the lazy roll of Younghyun's denim-rough crotch against his tender, sensitive skin. But — 

"Let's get you fed first." Younghyun started getting up, somehow ignoring the hot bulge in his jeans that Wonpil couldn't take his eyes off. "If you're really having a heat." 

_"No_ ," Wonpil said petulantly, and flung his weight full on Younghyun.

Younghyun went over with a surprised yelp, caught off-balance as he was, and Wonpil landed triumphantly half-atop him. 

"Pilie—" Younghyun's voice died in his throat when Wonpil tore open his jeans and shoved them them down just enough so he could rub against him. Younghyun rarely wore underwear these days, to Wonpil's advantage. Younghyun's cock had curved up to tap against his belly once freed; Wonpil pressed the thick solidity of him as firmly between the swollen, sensitive lips of his pussy as he could, threw his head back and sighed the way he knew would make Younghyun's cock twitch, and _moved_. He smeared all the viscous wetness between his legs against the underside of Younghyun's cock: up, down, up, and down, up again.

"Shit — fuck — Pilie —" Younghyun was moaning. His hands were on Wonpil's hips, fingers flexing with every drag of Wonpil's hips. "You're so —"

Wonpil slid down, down, down this time, til his head was level with Younghyun's cock — red and glistening with Wonpil's slick and his own precum — and filled his mouth.

"Fuck!" Younghyun bucked up once. Fingers started apologetically carding through Wonpil's hair and stroking at the base of his ears, when tears started in his eyes. Wonpil ignored it, inhaled deep through his nose and relaxed his throat, pursed his lips. He didn't care that he'd have to sing soon, didn't have any thought of demos or radio shows or — he sucked and breathed in through his nose the smell of Younghyun's arousal and sweat and desperation. 

That cocktail of scents resparked the simmer in his belly, made his folds grow even heavier, his nipples tautened again. It couldn't have been very long before Wonpil was summarily hauled off, Younghyun growling, and up to be kissed. 

"You're so pretty like this, bunny," Younghyun said and thumbed at Wonpil's lower lip, kissed him again. "But I can't let you get away with all ... this." He gestured — at the ruined cushion, the pooled slick on the floor, the damp patch Wonpil had left on his calf as he'd ridden it whilst sucking Younghyun. 

Wonpil blinked slowly at him, lips parting on a silent _why not_. 

Younghyun shook his head at him, smiling helplessly. "You just — turn over, Wonpil-ah."

Wonpil turned over.

"Open your legs," Younghyun whispered, tucking Wonpil into his chest.

Wonpil parted his thighs. Younghyun pressed them wider apart with his own.

"Count." 

Wonpil gasped as Younghyun stroked at his swollen, slippery folds before spreading them. Anticipation, dizzying and drunken, spiralled through him. Younghyun briefly pressed two fingertips, rough-whorled and so, so good against the greedy, grasping centre of Wonpil, a taste that had Wonpil gasping out a _Please_ , and then raised his palm. 

Wonpil cried out at the first wet smack — the heel of Younghyun's palm had landed right below his cocklet — pleasure-pain sparked, skittered, spread out from his pussy to his thighs, up his belly, back to the base of his tail.

 _"Count_ , Pilie."

"One," Wonpil whimpered.

"Good boy. Good bunny." Younghyun nuzzled at the tousled hair between his ears, kissed at one. They were of next to no use but decorative, some genetic throwback born of being a second generation hybrid. But they made Wonpil feel good when Younghyun touched them whenever he was this keyed up.

The next smack was open palmed and landed with a dull _thwap_ that resonated through Wonpil, made him wretchedly aware of how empty he was.

"Two," Wonpil moaned. 

The next three came in quick succession, landing just slightly off centre of each other, and Wonpil slurred the numbers together as he _unh unh unh_ 'ed. 

"Fuck, Pilie, I can't —" the smacks stopped abruptly and Wonpil was hefted briefly — an arm anchoring him upright and against Younghyun's chest — then what he'd been dying for — the fat head of Younghyun's cock pressing into him. Wonpil was so wet, so ready, so open that Younghyun sank into him like a dream, thick and hard and hot. "Baby, you feel so — can I —"

"Yes," Wonpil begged, "please, hyung, _yes_."

Younghyun snapped his hips up and Wonpil's toes curled even as his knees went weak. They stayed curled, wretched high sobs falling out of his mouth with every sharp thrust in — why wasn't Younghyun stopping up his mouth like usual? The passing thought was wrenched quickly away when he was hitched further up, calves curled under himself. The angle of Younghyun's cock in him changed acutely so that it bumped against _something_ deep inside. His limbs liquefied the rest of the way, melted under a molten wave of pleasure as he sank against the pressure, as they moved together in an insistent grinding press he was barely conscious of.

"Fuck," Younghyun was moaning into his ear, the bass in his voice reverberating from his chest through Wonpil. "Fuck, you — so good, so hot. I'm so deep." 

Wonpil made some sort of animal noise in response, mouth dropping open as he went shivery and pliant all over. 

He couldn't be sure, submerged as he was in the cresting pleasure, but Younghyun came fast and hard, groaning into Wonpil's mouth, hand cradling the side of Wonpil's face. Wonpil was left whimpering and unfulfilled, squirming for more as the cock inside him twitched and softened. 

"Fucking hell," Younghyun said hoarsely, petting at Wonpil's belly. He was breathing hard and flinched palpably when Wonpil tried grinding back into him. "Ow, sweetheart, no."

But Wonpil wasn't _done_ yet. "Hyung," he begged, rubbing himself against the half-hard cock inside him, against the denim of Younghyun's open fly rough against his tingling folds. "I need — I'm still —" 

Younghyun collapsed onto his side half-jokingly, before pushing himself back up at Wonpil's loud whine. "I have you, baby." He wrapped his hand around Wonpil's cocklet, rubbed his thumb over the wet, swollen head of it, and sucked a kiss into the tender skin under Wonpil's jaw. It was so obvious, and would be so hard to hide, and sent a shiver zipping through Wonpil. 

Already on the knife's edge, Wonpil only had to roll his hips a few times, fuck into Younghyun's slick, deliciously callous-rough grip to feel the tightening in his belly, that aching unspent pleasure built up and burning through him like a fever break. 

"There we go," Younghyun murmured, rich and self-satisfied, as Wonpil made more animal sounds and shuddered apart. "Let yourself go, bunny." 

The first sign that this was, alarmingly, _not_ a heat was the way clarity returned so quickly. Not much time could have passed between Wonpil whiting out and the way he was now leaned back against the armchair, with Younghyun's head pillowed in his lap. His thighs were bowed apart slightly, his legs a loose diamond, and his skin was still distinctly slippery.

"It's not my heat," Wonpil said wonderingly. 

Younghyun stared up at him. "Like ... a false heat? I mean, you don't smell that way when you're just ... normal amounts of horny."

Wonpil wrinkled his nose. 

Laughing, Younghyun raised a mildly shaky arm to boop him on the nose. "Maybe it's a sign."

"Of what? Oh — maybe I'm pregnant," said Wonpil jokingly.

But Younghyun didn't laugh.

"Hyung," he said uncertainly, "I'm just joking?"

"Mmm." There was a very particular gleam in Younghyun's eyes as he turned onto his side and laid one hand flat over Wonpil's sweat-damp belly. Wonpil's shirt had apparently been discarded at some point. Younghyun's, too. His flank and back were sweaty too. Wonpil's cunt, still throbbing, fluttered hungrily. "Do you think? Your heat wasn't so long ago."

Wonpil booped him back. "Definitely, medically not."

"Hmmm." Younghyun turned in to kiss the soft fold of fat under Wonpil's belly button, nuzzled open-mouthed against his skin damp with sweat and other things. Like he was trying to breathe Wonpil in. "Oh." He shouldered Wonpil's thighs further apart and sunk lower. "Oh. Pilie ... You're still .... I'm still leaking out of you." He sounded reverent.

And then Younghyun put his mouth to where Wonpil could indeed feel the mix of their come still slipping out of him. A slow, hot, wet, drip. He shuddered, and then shuddered harder when Younghyun's tongue lapped at him. Into him. And then he leaned into the armchair and surrendered to it, the waves of pleasure again, winding up and up and up.

A slippery interlude later, Younghyun was fucking Wonpil over the coffee table, manuscript paper crinkling under Wonpil's ass.

"Nn, nn, _nnngh_ ," Wonpil was mewling, his knees driven to his chest and his pussy aching the way he'd been craving, with the force of Younghyun's squelching, slapping thrusts. 

Younghyun always teased him about how much he liked it rough, but he liked it too; he liked how Wonpil could take him so well, and he liked how Wonpil wobbled and leaned into him after. And Wonpil liked the gleam in Younghyun's eyes when that happened: the little bit of dilation and that stupidly hot self-satisfied look. 

" _Hyu-u-ng_ ," Wonpil hiccuped, "fill me up, I want —" Gasping at a particular rough thrust, Wonpil forgot his train of thought and had to scream a bit, an airy thing breaking into whimpers, when Younghyun stayed deep in him, grinding and panting. His sweat was dripping onto Wonpil, his jeans were still on and a damp rasp against Wonpil's tender skin, and he smelt like a geological event.

"What," Younghyun groaned, "do you. Want?" 

"You —" Wonpil couldn't help the way his hips were twisting and his pussy was pulsing, but he squeezed tighter anyway. "Fill me up — please, _unh_ , hyung, I want, _ah_ , to f-feel your come." 

"F— _uck_." Somehow, Younghyun got deeper, and oh _god_ was that — Wonpil could feel the tell-tale swelling of the base of his cock, so rare outside of heats and ruts. "Fuck, baby, you —" 

"All — ah — of it," Wonpil gasped, already craving the deeper stretch and the particular post-knotting soreness. "Please, hyung, _please_."

"You're so fucking hot," Younghyun growled, and fucked himself in a little circle till he found — Wonpil's torso jack-knifed up, his head barely missing Younghyun's chin.

"Yeah, that's it." Younghyun held Wonpil close, one hand cradling his head and stroking absently at an ear. "Come here, bunny, I'm gonna stuff you full of kits." 

Wonpil couldn't help but giggle, and then gasp some more at the vibrations that sent through both of them. "Is this — is this a — ah, _uh, uh_ , a ki-ink?" 

"Yes," Younghyun stilled for a moment, frank and serious. Wonpil went a little dizzy as the _things_ growled in his ears in the past surfaced in his memory. "But also..." he rubbed ardently at Wonpil's belly.

Wonpil wiggled. "Hyung! Not _now_."

"I know." Younghyun gave him an indulgent smile. "But shall we try again?" He was joking this time. There was mischief in his eyes, pooling in in his dimples. 

"On your bed," Wonpil said as imperiously as he could for how much breath he had left in his lungs.

"As you wish" — a quicksilver grin — "Wonpil- _gongju_." 

Wonpil wrinkled his nose at him; that joke had got old by the time their radio appearance ended, and then moaned in discontent when Younghyun pulled carefully out.

Laughing, Younghyun heaved him up and over, tossed him onto his bed. It was annoying — no matter how many push-ups Wonpil did, Younghyun could still toss him around like that. 

"Ah!" Wonpil gasped as he bounced, and shivered at the way the shocks travelled through him. Shivered a little too at the sight of Younghyun stepping out of his jeans. "Hyung, _careful_."

"I," Younghyun announced as he climbed on over Wonpil, manhandled him onto some pillows and slid between his welcoming thighs, "am going to wreck you so hard you can't walk tomorrow."

Wonpil couldn't help the chuff of laughter. He was pretty sure he was already going to be limping into the studio tomorrow.

"You don't think so?" Younghyun drew a light, teasing line down from Wonpil's sternum to his ticklish bellybutton with a finger. Stilled Wonpil's squirm with fingers pressed hard into the juts of Wonpil's hipbones. Lifted a leg up over one shoulder. "You don't think I can?"

"Mnn _nnnnn_." Wonpil tossed his head side to side, light-headed with the exposure, the air cool against his empty, covetous cunt. Reached in between them to tuck the fat head of Younghyun's cock into himself. Ran his fingers further up along Younghyun's shaft, hot and wet with his own slick, and stroked his swelling knot. "Walk the talk, hyung."

"Oh, I will," promised Younghyun, dark and hoarse. 

Then he slammed in, so hard Wonpil shrieked.

He was caught, Younghyun's knot pressing unforgivingly against the sensitive, overstimulated walls of his cunt. Even breathing sent electric frission up and down his spine, radiated sparking pleasure out from the base of his tail through his back and thighs; the ghosts of his earlier orgams had him quaking still, helplessly spread open and weak around Younghyun's heavy knot. 

"Hyung," Wonpil breathed, eyes falling shut against the overwhelm. " _Hyung_."

"Yeah, baby, look at you take me, _fuck."_ Younghyun's voice was rough between harsh breaths as he shook against the effort of holding still. Only his hands were in motion, massaging at Wonpil's ass as he held him up, the movement going to straight to his core. "So good, sweetling, you're so good for me." 

And Wonpil was, wasn't he, shoulders squirming against the sheets as he tried and failed to get used to it all: to Younghyun sitting so deep his cock was lodged up against the tender spot behind his cervix, making his entire pelvic cradle feel like it was melting in a hot wave. To Younghyun's shaft so hard and hot, so good for squeezing around. To his knot, indescribable — and if Wonpil just shifted a little it would press —

"Oh — _oh_!" He let out a broken wail, hips rolling for more: more sensation, more pressure, just _more_.

Younghyun spat out a heartfelt _"Fuck_ " and — oh, that was his cock twitching, and that was Younghyun's come filling him up. Tied together and with no room for manouevre, Wonpil could only writhe restlessly while Younghyun circled his hips, breathing hard and moaning, low under Wonpil's gasping airy sobs.

He was a mindless, molten core of pleasure, for taking and giving, for Younghyun to fuck deep and wet into, for filling up with his come until it took. Nothing else in the world existed, while Younghyun ground into him over and over, short hard sharp squelching jerks as he came long and hard. Wonpil, swept out to sea on the tide of ecstasy, opened his eyes at the feeling of his leg being let down, the sustained pressure against his inner walls diminishing, shifting.

"Don't," Younghyun laughed breathily, "don't sigh like that, Pilie." 

Wonpil locked eyes with him and sighed again, consciously this time.

" _Hell_ , okay, one more time." Younghyun slid his fingers in between Wonpil's where they were tangled in the sheets next to his head, and drew his knot halfway out. It had gone down enough that it didn't hurt, sliding past his tingling folds, it just — it just stretched pleasantly. It ached so _good_.

"Yes," Wonpil whimpered, "yes please, _give me_."

Younghyun inhaled loudly, growled, "Fuck you're fucking perfect," dove in to take his mouth as well.

Maybe, Wonpil thought fuzzily before entirely losing his grasp on coherent thought again as Younghyun slid back in and he whimpered into Younghyun's mouth, there was some truth to the bunny thing after all.

*****


End file.
